


Chasers Of The Light

by outislanders



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, World War II, not exactly enemies in that sense they just get on each other's nerves a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-05-20 18:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19382563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outislanders/pseuds/outislanders
Summary: Left alone in the Luthor mansion after her brother has left to join the British war effort, Lena receives a call from the White House suggesting her skills might be invaluable to the Allies. Upon her arrival in England, she crosses paths with Kara Danvers, a land girl with a love of flying and a painfully optimistic disposition. But with an idea of a tomorrow that they may never see as the war continues to build at the front, and a disapproving society at their backs, they will both have to face separation, questions of personal and national loyalty, and just how far they're willing to go to make their way back to each other.





	1. The Beginning Of The End

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Tyler Knott's book of poems of the same name!!
> 
> This is really 'out there' for me. I hope you guys like it. This first chapter is a little short but here we are! A lot of it is inspired by almost every WW2 book I’ve read, including post-war settings, which I’ll link at the bottom. Women in the war were beyond brave and such a pillar of strength and a very large reason that families had been reunited and many people survived so they deserve to have their stories told. I kept finding myself drawn to their stories of courage and I knew I had to write about these. I also really want to do the aftermath of the war too, such as the Nuremberg Trials!  
> It won’t be all history filled, of course, but I guarantee a lot of emotions and I really want a happy ending. I have two in mind, but we’ll see where we go. 
> 
> Tl;dr had a breakdown over WW2 historical fiction books and here we are. 
> 
> Just wanted to say a huge thank you to the incredible gveret for the help in summarising the summary!!! You can also find them on here under the same name, their work is incredible and there’s a ton of supercorp stuff so you won’t regret it!!

**October** **1944**

**Limoges, France**

 

               She was not used to holding the heavy, cold metal of a rifle between her hands. The woman was more familiar with handguns. A weapon that she was trained to use, for close range combat, one that didn’t require too much of an accurate aim, a weapon that could be easily concealed. She wasn’t used to being on the ground, crouched between hedges that hadn’t yet lost their leaves. The dark was just as bad, she was not used to total darkness, and she hated it. Everything that happened in the last few years made her uncomfortable, death and complete destruction with the entirety of war being so _unfamiliar_ and even in the almost five years that they had been in the throes of war, every hurdle she crossed was like no other.

               Paris had been liberated for a few months, but rural parts of France were still suffering as the Nazi occupation was yet to be fully defeated. It was the last push and the last offence that the Germans had in France, and they were being more reckless and unpredictable than before. In truth, they could never have won when the Allies were closing in at such a rapid pace, so they were doing all that they could think of – tying up loose ends and attempting to finish their last piece of cruelty.

               The first concentration camp, Majdanek, which the Germans called Lublin, had been liberated during the July by the Soviets who advanced on Poland and the city of Lublin. It was one of the first time’s that the world truly understood what they were fighting for, _who_ they were fighting for. The site had remained almost intact as the Germans didn’t realise how quick the Allies were advancing and they began sharing their information with the world once they infiltrated the sites. There was talk of war crimes, for people to eventually _pay_ for what they’ve done, as if that would ease the feeling of loss that had plagued the globe. With rumours of the Nazis retreating into Germany and taking the people they had placed into concentration camps with them, the speed of the resistance was essential. The war was coming to an end and persistence was what kept everyone going. Strangers often said that they had all been through the worst, but she couldn’t help but feel like the worst that everyone spoke of was only the beginning.

               It was bitterly cold, and winter hadn’t yet reached France, but the temperatures told of a dreadful season on the horizon. She stretched her neck, feeling the slight pull just under her collarbone. Her eyes flickered up to the night sky, and she focused on the blanket of stars above her. _Thank god the stars haven’t left_ you _yet_. If there were birds, they would’ve given away their location, with the snapping of twigs as they settled. However, when humanity began trying to end itself from within, nature had seemed to continue; indifferent to what was occurring, but still managed to abandon humanity all the same. Birds had migrated away from their homes where bloodshed tore apart their fields, and trees became riddled with bullet holes. It was as if even nature disagreed and knew of the horror, they were unleashing amongst each other.

               She waited, and watched, the silence became deafening, until she broke it with a traitorous choked sob that escaped her throat at the scene that unfolded in front of her. She covered her mouth with her free hand, remaining paralysed in place whilst someone next to her whispered a less than soothing _wait_.

               Three words. The voice called into the darkness, _three simple words_. A promise, a hint of recognition, of an overwhelming understanding as to what those words meant, and a hope that someone else did too. The words were loud enough for the world to hear, and loud enough for _her_ to know exactly what to do next.

               Her eyes immediately shot up, and the only person who was able to, finally answered the call.

               She pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

**February 1940**

**New York, United States of America**

 

               ‘ _Lena Kieran Luthor_ ’, her navy passport read. Place of birth; Dublin, Ireland, 1919. A lifetime ago. War hadn’t yet reached the U.S. In some ways, they had been lucky enough to remain fully untouched by the horrors that were already being reported from across Europe. A part of her knew that whatever safety they had enjoyed wouldn’t last, especially not for her.

               She remained in her spacious bedroom, the white carpets and dark fourposter bed being the only comfort she had had for a number of months. A dim light filtered in through the windows, illuminating the dust and highlighting the disuse of the space each time she paced around the room. Lena had been alone for as long as she could remember. Even with the members of her so-called family around her when she was younger, a sense of loneliness would wash over her as if she were standing on a shore during the high tide, wishing for its eventual retreat, and knowing it wouldn’t all the same.

               It was her brother, Alexander, or Lex as they preferred to call him, who had made her feel at home and somewhat accepted. He had been gone for a total of almost five months. Lena had left the west coast when he did, travelling to the east coast together and ultimately, to one of the other of the Luthor homes. Despite her love of the west, she didn’t want to be there without him. He left in late September of 1939 after hearing that Prague had been invaded by the Nazi party from their mother, with the aim to enlist in either the Royal Air Force or the British Army. How she knew was beyond them, but they surmised her current residence in Scotland allowed for her to be more aware of the events in Europe that they were too far from to hear of. She hadn’t heard from him for since he arrived and sent a letter letting his sister know he was safe, and a part of Lena hoped she would be able to see him when she was on the small island. One of her first Christmas’s without her brother since being part of the Luthor family had passed in the last few months. It wasn’t as terrible or solitary as Lena had expected it to be. She had spent the day with the staff who worked at the Luthor home, decorating the Christmas tree, helping with dinner, play many rounds of cards, and laughing and drinking together well into the night.

               Lena returned to the white marbled bathroom, running her hand through the water that had finally cooled just enough to her liking. She removed the cream satin slip she was wearing and left in in a bundle on the bathroom floor. The steam filled the room, fogging the mirror as beads of sweat stuck to Lena’s brow with the heat from the bath. She inhaled the familiar scent of lavender soap that she loved. It reminded her of the abundance of lavender that was planted throughout the garden in Scotland. The dark-haired woman sighed, _Scotland_ , another lifetime ago. Almost a week ago, Lena had received a call from the White House, telling her that her skills, along with a select few of people, would be invaluable to both the U.K. and the U.S. in aiding the British war effort that was steadily building in size and ferocity. They didn’t tell her _which_ of her skills would be useful, just that they would be indebted to her if she were to cross the Atlantic and enter one of the recruitment offices where she would be given more information. Even thinking about it sounded ludicrous, and despite that, with her personal ties to the United Kingdom, regardless of Ireland being a republic, it meant that when she was told to go, she went. Her country needed her, and even with the dangers she knew would inevitably follow, to be needed was a comforting thought to the young woman.

               The brunette gingerly stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel, tightly tucking it in at her chest. She wiped at the mirror, creating a small path that allowed her to see herself, slightly strewn which immediately fogged up again. Lena ran her hand along the glass of the mirror again and examined the look in her emerald eyes that she herself, couldn’t even place and with a shaky exhale, she quickly left the bathroom.

               She would’ve happily spent her entire life in California if she were given the chance. The warmth with the lack of seasons was an aspect that remained unchanged and entirely dependable to the young woman. Even though she hated being completely exposed to the sun, the temperature on the west coast was a lot better than the east, specifically in winter. But as it was January, she knew the cold meant that she would suffer. Big time. She didn’t know what to pack. Most of the clothes in the Luthor household in New York were thick, woolly items and full of tweed, which Lena begrudgingly wore and immediately threw into her suitcase. She had been living without her mother, Lillian, for the past few years. Instead, remaining with the Luthor staff, who had been around for as long as she could remember and in some roundabout way, they were the only family she had.

               After placing her small dark beret on her head in the mirror of her bedroom vanity, she tilted it more to the right until she was content with how it looked. She returned to sit at the base of her bed and finished the bottle of scotch from the night before, dismissing the light burning sensation as the alcohol traced a fiery path down her throat. The liquor cabinet and cellar were her favourite part of any of the Luthor family homes after all, and she had practically drained the entire contents during the holidays. After what seemed like hours, she was finally ready. Her dark hair had been swept into a small knot at the nape of her neck. She had applied a light layer of foundation under her eyes, the dark circles that seemed to permanently reside there were forever irritating her to say the least. Lena stood and scrutinised her appearance again in the mirror, realising something was missing. She returned from the bathroom with a tube of her favourite lipstick. She pursed her lips and applied the crimson lipstick she would never leave the house without. She had decided to stockpile it, taking numerous tubes with her, as she knew she would be unable to access it once she arrived at her destination.

               A calm fist rapped on the door of her room, followed by a familiar voice Lena knew to be Frank, her driver. “Miss Luthor, your car is ready.”

               “Thank you,” Lena called back. She flattened the lapels of  her tweed jacket and placed white gloves over her perfectly manicured hands. Lena stepped into her dark oxfords and tightly tied the laces. The woman took one last look of her bedroom, and she released the breath she had been holding. With her small suitcase in hand, she descended the wooden stairs, greeting Frank in the hall.

               She could smell the bitter scent of alcohol on her own breath and a part of her was grateful that Frank didn’t mention it. Much like the rest of the staff, the man had been a constant in her life, and he had been around for as long as she could remember.

               He took the case from Lena and placed it into the back of the car. She slowly followed along and before opening the door, she turned around to see the home she was leaving behind. The Luthor homes were always perfect, a little _too_ perfect in Lena’s eyes. The manicured gardens of their home in New York told of wealth, and the stonework of the home told of heritage, but nothing told visitors of what actually occurred within the walls, and sometimes Lena wondered if she truly knew herself.

 

\---

 

               She hated flying, especially flying alone. To Lena, idea of being stuck in some sort of metal contraption that transported people across oceans and land and countries and continents was both bizarre and treacherous. Although the woman surmised that whatever she was getting involved in was going to be just as dangerous, she may as well try her best to get used to constant sweaty palms and an eternal racing heartbeat.

               After a few hours, the car stopped outside of Newark Airport. Frank opened the door for her, and the crisp, winter air immediately bit at her cheeks. Her eyes roamed her surroundings when she stepped out of the car. The top of the building resembled a lighthouse somewhere off the coast of Maine, and it wasn’t as busy as when she had first arrived a few months ago. She started to walk toward the airport and immediately turned around, throwing her arms around Frank.

               “Miss, Luthor-” he began, slightly startled as his left leg attempted to steady his stance. When Lena’s arms tightened, Frank returned the hug, patting her back.

               The dark-haired woman released her arms, “I’ll miss you.”

               “Stay safe, Lena. Write if you can.” Frank reached into his jacket pocket and handed Lena two books she instantly recognised. They were the ones she had adored when she was a child; _The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood_ and, _Peter Pan and Wendy_. Fairytales – when the bad lasted a chapter and the good spanned well beyond the last page.

               Lena’s eyes roamed the covers of each book, and she bit on the inside of her cheek to still herself from whatever emotions were bubbling inside of her, “I will.” She didn’t expect to feel like she did, but he had been in her life for as long as she could remember, and like the rest of the staff throughout the Luthor households, they were more her family than anyone else.

               He replied with a curt nod and returned back to the car. Lena gave him a small wave when he drove away. When Lena walked towards the white building which was the airport, she thought of Amelia Earhart as she walked through the dark doors. She had dedicated one of the first terminals, and she had been a woman who hadn’t shared Lena’s fear. Amelia was a woman to be admired and the youngest Luthor had always hoped that one day someone would think the same of her – someone to be remembered for something good, something selfless.

               When she was a child, she was told by her brother, Lex, that it was okay to have one fear, one thing to focus on. Once that fear was defeated, her worry could be dedicated elsewhere. Here she was with her one fear – flying. The plane from California didn’t ease her fear and she knew this journey would more than likely exacerbate it.

               _Pan American World Airways_ ’, the small slip of paper said. She scoffed, the name sounded absurd, like something taken from J.M Barrie’s writing. Lena smiled to herself, it wasn’t as ridiculous as she had thought. It tied in lovingly to one of the books she now held in her hand, and perhaps Frank knew that. It wasn’t overly safe, and she knew the risks. Her brother had practically completed the same journey a few months ago, leaving for Scotland rather than England. He had left from the same airport and arrived safely, and that’s all she knew.

               After Lena had passed her ticket to the attendant, she walked along the tarmac and up the steep flight of stairs onto the plane. She relaxed into the uncomfortable fabric chair of the aeroplane, immediately abandoning her gloves, the chair was a total difference to the buttery soft dark leather of the car she had left only moments ago. A part of her hoped the liquor in her system would catch up with her and lull her to sleep.

 

\---

 

**Southampton, England**

 

               The dark-haired woman was unsure of whether the alcohol had worked or whether the plane had actually descended into the Atlantic and she was imagining things when she woke to a slight jolt. Immediately, she craned her neck toward the small, lightly rain splattered window; the plane had begun rolling across tarmac surrounded by lush green grass. Lena watched the other passengers from narrowed eyes, and she massaged her temples. If she was already dead, she certainly wouldn’t have a headache. She finally released the breath she had been holding since she had received the call that advised her to leave.

               “You okay, darlin’?” The woman next to her asked in a thick accent Lena surmised was from New Jersey. Her dark, sunken eyes were highlighted more so due to her peroxide blonde hair and they flickered to Lena’s hand, making her release her white-knuckled grip around the thin, metal armrest.

               Lena nodded, “I’m fine thank you, happy to be here at last.”

               The woman’s steady fingers lightly gripped a cigarette she had removed from a packet in her breast pocket, “Would you like one?”

               “No, thank you.” Lena smiled, silently surprised at the kindness from a stranger. She didn’t smoke for the most part as she preferred something stronger like alcohol, but even so, she wasn’t averse to the odd cigarette when she was alone and outside after one too many bad days that liquor alone couldn’t remedy.

               The woman next to her nodded and proceeded to light her cigarette. She spoke of her family and told Lena that her sister’s husband had enlisted into the military, and she needed help to look after her children, whilst her sister taught in the local school. Lena nodded nonchalantly, silently hoping that the woman lived somewhere in the countryside, not any of the major cities she knew would eventually be bombed. When she asked _why_ a young woman had crossed an entire ocean during a war, she didn’t have an answer, because even she wasn’t entirely sure why she was there. Instead, she made up some story about an ill relative that was _such_ a travesty no one in her family could have ever anticipated. After mindless chatter that seemed to continue for another hour, they quickly said goodbye, and the woman slipped a cigarette into Lena’s hand after pulling her into a surprising hug, and whispering _good luck_ , which made Lena’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink.

               Lena stepped off the plane in England, her valise held tightly to her side. Despite crossing an entire ocean, it looked exactly like rural New York in winter. The fog greeted her like an old friend, blurring the surroundings and whispering a malevolent _welcome back_ that she could feel throughout her entire body. Despite the fervour and overwhelming determination in Lena’s heart, she couldn’t help but think that this was probably going to be the worst decision she’s ever made. Without thinking, Lena was immediately struck with one phrase she remembered her birth mother saying which played on a constant loop in her mind when she tried to organise her disjointed thoughts, _always chase the light_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so take what you want from the first half it’s not the context or person you might expect and may or may not be an ending that will be unhappy, or it might even be just an angst plot but who knows :)))
> 
> This means a lot to me, my Grandma was an armature winder and nurse in the isolation wards during the war and her best friend was a pilot so yeah, a lot of everyday stuff are stories I’ve been told too lmao and maybe I now have 3 unfinished fics and I might even start another and what about it.
> 
> The books I’ve read were Code Name Verity, Rose Under Fire, The Nightingale, The Huntress, The Alice Network, Jackdaws, All the Light We Cannot See, Tell it to the Bees, Lilac Girls, The Lost Girls of Paris, and The Librarian.
> 
> Come say hi on twitter if you like! I'm @outislanders


	2. Cheers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a while huh?? Did we ever talk about how much I loved sdcc???? OR the trailer to sbb wow  
> Also this is a lil dialogue heavy no one say anything

               Southampton resembled any type of ordinary town that the woman had visited, brick upon brick, with all sorts of people milling around. Although larger than where her mother resided in Scotland, the only distinguishable difference was its proximity to the water and the overwhelming size of the ships that bobbed with each ripple of the water. Through the hazy fog that filed the streets, Lena could see silhouettes of children running and playing, and parents following behind them, friends gossiping and smoking on shop corners, with laughter filling the silences that were left in the wake of the roaring sound of the cars. Everything looked painfully normal, as if the residents were waiting for the day that they would be told that the war had ended, and they could continue with their usual lives, without having to appear burdened by this unknown force.

               She surveyed the faces of people she passed, and stopped a woman asking where the nearest recruitment centre was. Instead, she received a glance at her clothes, a subtle roll of the eyes, and not as much as a hello before the woman had darted off in a different direction.

               “You’ll have to go to London, Yank. That’s where the War Office is,” a man scoffed in the general direction of her without even looking up from the cigarette he was lighting.

               _Yank_ , _really original_. Lena plastered a honey-sweet smile on her face, “Thanks…” she lowered a voice to an aggravated whisper, “dick.”

 

\---

 

**London, England**

 

               Lena had been in England for all of a few hours, and she already felt completely exhausted. At some point during the cab ride, she had almost succumbed to sleep, drifting in and out of a weary consciousness, not quite confident or aware of her surroundings. It wasn’t until the taxi came to a screeching halt that she was jostled fully awake, seeing the expanse of the old white-bricked building.

               Although less than three hours away from Southampton, London felt like a different universe altogether. The influx of bodies in suits, rushing with their attention fixed to the ground told her of the will to be elsewhere and the understanding that this was only the beginning. The War Office was full of people, and after Lena had stood in line for what felt like hours, she was eventually seen by one of the members of staff.

               The office was a mess, as to be expected, people involved with the British government were constantly rushing so that if the worst did happen, they would be prepared. The thin, measly blinds hung on a tilt, yellowed by nicotine, the scent of which mingled in the stale air creating an unbearable stench that the woman likened to horrendous personal hygiene. She scrunched her nose as it accustomed itself to the smell. The office faced out onto the main road which she assumed she would’ve been able to see if it weren’t for the harsh lights and dust that crowded the room. Lena stood for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the man behind the small desk to speak. Instead, she was left wondering how he had managed to achieve anything with such a mess. Even what appeared to be important documents had not been spared, being lined with coffee rings, and discarded cutlery left on the blotter.

               The man eventually glanced up at Lena and released an irritated sigh. “If you want news about your husband, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for a telegram-”

               “No. I’m here to help-”

               He removed his glasses. His thick, ungroomed eyebrows framed them in a way they themselves had failed to do and placed them on top of a leather-bound book on his desk. “With?”

               “The war effort,” Lena mumbled as plain as day, as if he had asked her name. Her hand met the back of her neck and her eyes remained fixed on the grimy floor in an attempt to disguise the red that she could feel fighting its way to the surface of her face. She wasn’t the type of person to be nervous when she spoke to strangers, or to turn quiet when someone asked something of her that she couldn’t particularly answer. But here she stood, in a dingy office, watching and waiting for someone else to take the reins and there was nothing more she hated than being told what to do.

               He scoffed, “You’re an American, stay out of it as you already have. We didn’t need you during the Great War, and we certainly don’t need you now.” He leaned back in his chair, interlocking his stubby fingers behind his head, and called to the open door off the side of his office that Lena hadn’t noticed when she first walked in. “Hey, Pearson! We’ve got ourselves a Yank!”

               A muffled bark of a laugh found its way into the office. The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes, it wasn’t the first time that people had often gazed at her with confusion when she spoke, as if trying to place her on an atlas, although she did wish they would have chosen another way to insult her. “I’m British- well, Irish, but my family-” Lena began.

               “War is not some game, and women aren’t meant to be involved in war,” he spat, “your job is to wait for the men to come home.”

               Lena surveyed the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the building flush of his cheeks from the sweltering temperature in the office. “You’re jumping to conclusions rather quickly, aren’t you?” The woman stood, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles out of her skirt, “If you don’t want my help, I will happily go elsewhere.”

               “Wait!” Lena stopped, and arched her eyebrow remaining standing whilst he spoke, “Say I believed you, what could you possibly do? Entertain our troops for a night?” The man laughed as if he had told the funniest joke possible.

               Lena shrugged, a smirk forming on her lips, made more prominent with the contrast of her crimson lipstick against her pale skin. “I have two degrees, one doctorate. I specialise in science and mathematics. I’m also fluent in French and German.” She folded her arms, _checkmate_. “What do _you_ think I could do?”

               The man’s blinking increased, and his mouth fell agape. ”Uh- wait here.” He stood, “What did you say your name was again?”

               Lena stopped fidgeting with her nails and slowly raised her chin, meeting the man’s eyes, “I didn’t.”

 

\---

 

               After her visit to the War Office, Lena needed somewhere to spend the night before she was able to receive any type of training. Most hotels throughout London were already being occupied for periods much longer than a single night, and she didn’t wish to reside in a bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the city. Once she had found somewhere to stay, she took a short cab ride to the hotel. Lena made a note to try and attain more money, hopefully from the bank account that belonged to her family, as long as she could stay undetected by her mother. During the journey, she gazed out of the window. The woman’s first goal had been achieved. She had received an offer for training, although she had hoped to do something _more_. For now, it was enough.

               The Halcyon was more ostentatious than Lena could have ever anticipated. It was a hotel that her mother and father had stayed at before they reluctantly chose to pack their lives into small boxes and move north, so _naturally_ it was the perfect place for her to stay for one night. The deep red of the bricked building stretched over its own block, full of people from the staff to the guests as if part of its own small world. Once the dark-haired woman had left the cab, she padded along the pavement to the door where she was greeted by the tall polite doorman.

               When she stepped into the hotel, she was immediately welcomed by the large entryway with its black and white marbled floor that clicked and echoed with each of her steps. The sound effortlessly created its own melody alongside the indistinct sound of chatter from people seated at the embroidered silk sofas scattered throughout the lobby. The huge ornate white staircases on either side of the receptionist’s desk were lined with deep merlot rugs leading upstairs to equally lavish rooms. Lena’s gaze roamed the rest of the hotel, and the glass dome at least one hundred feet above where she stood sent a kaleidoscope of colours from the hanging chandelier throughout the entire space. It was slightly obscene to see the continuation of such luxury whilst others were suffering. Her thoughts were immediately interrupted when a child ran past her with a sheepish grin as his mother quickly followed behind.

               Lena padded to the receptionist’s desk, made of amber-coloured wood and a dark jade granite top with flecks of black and grey throughout. The woman stood much taller than Lena, her dark blonde hair swept into a neat bun and her light airforce blue woollen suit made her look so perfectly put together. “Good afternoon,” she smiled through cherry red lipstick.

               The brunette glanced at the golden badge displaying the young woman’s name, “Hello, Miss Garland.”

               “Please, call me Emma. Are you checking in?”

               “Yes, I called earlier in the day. My name is Lena Luthor, I hope I’m not too late.”

               “Not at all, I believe you would’ve spoken to my father, he’s the manager.” The blue of Emma’s eyes met Lena’s green, “and we do try to meet all of the needs of every guest who stays with us,” the corner of her mouth turned upwards, “ _including_ the time they wish to check in.”

               Whilst the woman fiddled with papers, she gave Lena an apologetic smile, which Lena took as an invitation to start a conversation. “So, do you live here?”

               “Yes.”

               “It’s a lovely hotel.”

               After Lena had checked in and declined the offer to be shown to her room, choosing to locate the bar instead, the porter had taken her case upstairs. It wasn’t until she was wandering around that she fully appreciated how vast the hotel was. For a moment, Lena wondered where her parents would have sat together, if they wandered into the same bar she was attempting to locate, or if they ate nearby. It wasn’t as if she cared too much, it was a mere observation that entered her mind, which demanded an answer, and the most pressing question was _how_ anyone could fully cope with the poison that was her mother.

               Lena took a right, and then a left, and another right, and ended up back in the lobby of the hotel, quickly making her way back to the front desk. “Sorry to bother you again, where’s the bar?”

               “Just through there,” the receptionist pointed toward the left where a large archway opened to another room, “my best friend and her band are performing.”

               “Fantastic, thank you. I’ll have to check it out.”

               Lena followed the simple directions she was given and was met by the melodic beat of the jazz music in the bar. She looked over the crowd of people, and through a small gap, she saw the band. The brunette sauntered toward the empty bar, choosing a seat far enough away from everyone else, and close enough for a slight view of the stage. Although Lena believed her first step in England to be complete, her next step was training. It was a comforting thought to have the next few months planned, and to have someone else doing the organising, even though a part of her longed to do it for herself.

               She would’ve felt out of place in the bar as she was dressed like a woman ready for some elaborate business meeting, amongst evening dresses and suits, as well as a few other people dressed the same. Lena swiftly ordered a whisky with ice, watching the almost transparent wisps of smoke swirl and mingle with the air creating a slight haze that she could she more than smell. Every liquor imaginable sat upon tired shelves on the wall of the bar, illuminated by a golden light, as if part of some decadent piece of artwork. It was everything she had been told to avoid, but eventually began to lean towards anyway.

               After losing count of which drink sat in the tumbler in front of her, from the corner of her eye Lena took a quick glance of a man as he settled onto the stool next to her. He wore a deep navy-blue uniform, adorned with shining gold buttons, and a ridiculously oversized matching dark hat, boasting the Royal Navy seal. Why he felt the need to wander around in his dress uniform, she didn’t know, but Lena tightened her grip around her glass, fighting the urge to remove the awful looking hat and throw it to the ground herself.

               “Toby.” He gestured with his glass toward the stage, “Who’s your favourite?”

               “Lena…” She introduced herself with a curt nod, “I like the singer, she’s wonderful.”

               His eyes widened, “ _Betsey_? You have to be joking!”

               “I could listen to her sing for hours. What about you?”

               “I like the pianist, he’s _wonderful_.”

               Lena rolled her eyes, and swiftly finished her drink with one swig, savouring the burning sensation that followed, “I better go.”

               “You can if you want, but have you even said hello to ‘Lucky George’ yet?” Toby asked.

               Lena’s eyes flickered from the damp, cold glass in her hand to the man beside her, “If that’s some sort of analogy, I’d rather not know.”

               “It’s the gold dragon on the stairs!” The man’s voice lowered as if he were telling Lena a dire secret that couldn’t be repeated, “Legend says it’s twin was on the _Titanic_.”

               The brunette shook her head at his borderline ignorance, “And look how that turned out.”

               Toby barked a laugh, without any attempt to cover the volume of his amusement, “Oh, come on, don’t be such a downer, the war will be over in a few months.”

               “Clearly you haven’t been listening to what’s been going on in Europe,” Lena snarled.

               “And?” The man gave Lena a searching look, “Nothing is happening here.”

               The dark-haired woman inhaled a sharp breath, forcing down any animosity that threatened to bubble to the surface, “Not yet.” Lena’s head turned, and her eyes roamed the man’s uniform again and she released a light scoff as she rolled her eyes.

               Toby immediately caught her irritated gaze, “What? You don’t like a man in uniform?”

               “Correction-” she mindlessly drummed her fingers on the bar, “I don’t like a man in a _Royal_ _Navy_ uniform.”

               He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, allowing Lena to see the embroidered gold stripes so she could tell that he was an officer. The high rank seemed odd to the woman for someone who appeared to be so overwhelmingly crass. “Well I have to agree with you there.”

               The brunette woman rested her head on the top of a balled fist, “Water and I don’t mix and god, I hate your hat.”

               “You hate my hat?” The surprise in Toby’s voice was evident, and Lena assumed he had become so used to people praising his status and reminding him of his bravery, that any words against that were borderline unlawful.

               “I really _hate_ your hat, it’s far too big for your head and you look like a Beefeater in training.”

               He removed his dress cap and placed it onto the counter of the bar looking to Lena for a slight reassurance, “Better?”

               Lena’s head tilted to the side, she narrowed her eyes as she considered his new appearance, seeing short, dark slicked back hair, “No.” She muttered without thinking. Lena immediately caught the bartender’s attention, buying a gin for the man beside her and another whiskey for herself. She had hoped it would have given him something else to occupy his time with, rather than the words that left his mouth.

               “Next one is on me.” Toby held up his right hand, with his thumb and smallest finger crossed, and his left hand on his heart, “Scout’s honour,” he sharply nodded.

               Lena replied with a tight-lipped smile, “Well that means _so_ much.”

               After listening to him talk about his path into the Royal Navy and ramble about his hometown which he claimed was one of the safest places in London despite the reputation it gained, they had both finished their drinks, with Lena hoping another one would help her passively listen to the dreary details of his life.

               “I’ll take another gin, please, and whiskey for my good friend here.” Toby smiled to the bartender.

               “We’re hardly friends, you don’t know anything about me.” Lena whispered through gritted teeth.

               “You’ve bought me a drink, we’re practically best friends, and I _know_ that you favour Betsey.” The man retorted in a triumphant manner, seemingly pleased with himself for remembering at least one detail of the woman.

               “Sorry, we’re closing the bar for the night,” The bartender said.

               “I only just got here!” Lena exclaimed.

               “You’ve been here four hours, and that’s your seventh drink.” Lena’s face flushed a light shade of pink, unaware of how much time had passed without her knowledge. The bartender continued, “We will have other customers tomorrow; we don’t have much left.” He began wiping the counter down with a damp towel.

               “I have plenty of scotch in my room, my friend buys it by the barrel. Literally. It isn’t _your_ whiskey, but it’s certainly in a league of its own.” The man beside her offered.

               Lena surveyed her surroundings, the place was practically empty apart from the odd stragglers seated at round tables, the band, and the only two people left at the bar. “Fine.”

               On their way out of the bar, Toby stopped by the band, making Lena retrace her steps when she realised she hadn’t heard any supposedly witty comment from the man for over ten seconds.

               “Toby. Still hanging around as always.” The singer, Betsey, said accusingly stepping down from the stage and jostling her curled chestnut hair as she did so. She was only a little bit shorter than Lena, and the way she spoke was just as melodic and captivating as when she sang. It was her dress that caught the majority of Lena’s attention, a low-cut champagne-coloured dress with the perfect amount of sparkle. The taller woman cleared her throat, looking elsewhere when the musician glanced at her.

               “As your brother, it’s my duty.” Toby corrected.

               “Did you two like the set?” Betsey asked, immediately ignoring her brother.

               “Absolutely, you were fantastic.” Lena grinned.

               The thick East London accent made Lena lean a little closer as the other woman spoke, “Well thank you, you certainly make a girl giddy, uh-”

               “Lena.”

               The singer held out her hand, accompanied with a charming lopsided grin. “Betsey Day,” she said as she introduced herself, her words slowing ever so much on each of the vowels.

               Lena glanced at Toby’s uniform that also boasted his surname, in a black embroidered font, _Richardson_. “Don’t worry, she prefers Day. Apparently the name Elizabeth Richardson doesn’t sound anywhere near as appealing.” Betsey playfully slapped her brother on the shoulder, “Hey!”

               Lena shrugged, “I like both.”

               “Are you staying here long?” Betsey asked, turning her attention to Lena.

               “No, I leave tomorrow morning.”

               “Tell you what, if you’re here again, stop by. We have parties all night every night.”

               One of the members from the band who had been packing away his drum kit placed a hand on the singer’s shoulder in an attempt to hurry her along. “Where are you all going?” Toby interrupted.

               “For dinner. The bar is closed, so we’ll have to find somewhere else to go.”

               “We’ve got whiskey upstairs.”

               “Careful big brother, it sounds like an invitation to a party.”

               The naval officer swiped at his dress hat in an attempt to remove the two small lingering pieces of lint, “It could be. Room 252 if you folks change your mind.”

               “Maybe. I’ll see what the boys think once we’ve eaten.” Her gaze fell back to Lena, “Will you be there?”

               The emerald of Lena’s eyes met the hazel of the woman in front of her, “Um- yeah-”

               “Okay.” She smiled, “I’ll hopefully see you both soon.”

 

\---

 

               They walked slowly up the tall marble staircase with Toby insisting Lena pats the small golden dragon statue on the banister as they passed by, which she did, reaching for the dragon as she traversed the first few steps and starting to feel the effects of the alcohol she had drank. They walked along a dimly lit corridor, both of their eyes straining to adjust to the slightly newfound darkness until he stopped, and Lena almost crashed into the back of him. Toby, completely unaware, unlocked the door to his room with a gentle click of the key, “Lewis! Best get another glass for our friend, we have company.”

               The small silhouette of a man barely illuminated by the lamp put his newspaper down, revealing rounded glasses and messy, flame-coloured hair, “Friend?”

               Toby kicked off his dark leather dress shoes and strode into the room, switching on extra lamps as he did so, he gave Lewis a quick kiss and flopped onto the sofa beside him. Lena’s eyes widened, _so England has certainly changed_ , _good to know_. Toby caught Lena’s gaze which looked as if she had seen a ghost, or Hitler himself. “What’s the matter?”

               “Sorry I just didn’t- you’re-” Lena began rambling, immediately stopping herself from saying something she shouldn’t.

               Toby ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, disturbing the unnatural pattern it had been forced into. His voice lowered, “I think people prefer to use the term inverts when describing us.” The nature of his disposition lightened after the less than humorous joke he made, “Besides, I told you I don’t like my men in a Navy uniform either.”

               Lena slowly nodded, the corner of her mouth rising in a small smile, “So you did.”

               “And for the record, I’m here for the long run, I was just messing with you.” Toby carelessly threw his jacket over the back of one of the chairs, high fiving an unamused Lewis when it landed perfectly.

               “Good. I was about to smash the glass over your head if you continued.”

               The officer removed his tie and rolled up his sleeves, “I could tell.”

               “He has that effect on people.” Lewis laughed.

               “Lena-” she perched on the end of her seat and held out her hand.

               “The bar closed so I offered her some of the stash you’ve been hoarding,” Toby grinned, standing in search of the alcohol he had promised.

               “I hope he didn’t manage to swindle a round of drinks out of you,” Lewis smiled, “he’s been trying that all week to no success.”

               The brunette woman moved to sit on the single gold and black striped chair. “Not at all, just one, but I’ll make happily up for it with the scotch.”

               “So, Lena, what brings you here?” Lewis quizzed, removing his glasses to inspect a small smudge on one of the lenses.

               “The war.” Lena said slowly.

               “Obviously she hasn’t come for a bloody holiday-” Toby scoffed, handing both Lena and his partner a full glass of scotch each.

               Ignoring Toby’s comments, Lewis continued, “What is it you’re doing?”

               Lena paused; her brow furrowed slightly at the question. In truth, she knew nothing of her surroundings, and she knew not what she was diving headfirst into, but she knew something of war. Of course, she knew nothing of the bloodshed, the clattering in the night or the fear that accompanied it, but she knew of loss. She had been born during peacetime in Ireland, but her earliest memories were of the destruction that followed and the ghosts of walking, breathing souls that the war had taken and carelessly left in its wake. The woman ran a slender hand through her dark hair, just now realising she had taken it down, at some point between the fourth and fifth drink she assumed. “I’m going to work as a wireless operator, training starts tomorrow. What about you?”

               “Codes… mathematical equations,” he shrugged, “you name it.”

               “Must be nice. If I was a man, I’d be doing the exact same thing.” Lena took a sip of her drink, there was no point attempting to disguise the disdain she felt for that specific part of her situation. She was just as capable as anyone else, and just as intelligent, if not more so, and she _knew_ it.

               “Do you know where you’re going for training?” Toby asked.

               “Someone mentioned Herefordshire,” Lena replied nonchalantly.

               “It’s a lovely place, _very_ green.” Toby grinned.

               In truth, the woman didn’t have a preference for the countryside or the city, but she had always adored the expanse of the coast, and the overwhelming questions of the unknown that lingered in her mind as she would pace the beaches in California. The time spent constantly questioning what was beyond the water, where it would take her if she were to jump straight in and allow the tide and current to pull her under or if it were able drag her to another unknown world altogether. She sighed, “It’ll do for a little while; I just hope it’s as far north as I’ll have to go. I was wanting to be near the coast, but I guess we’re just preparing since _nothing has happened here yet_.” Lena exhaled a sharp breath to herself mocking Toby’s words. “My brother came here a couple of months ago, and rather than do nothing at home, it seemed like a good idea to be able to do _something_.”

               “Where is he?” The redhead asked.

               Lena shook her head, “I haven’t really heard from him since he got here.”

               “I can find out about your brother,” Toby offered. “What’s his name?”

               “Alexander Joseph Luthor.”

               “German?” He asked.

               Lena tried to hide a slight wince, she had thought of lying but there was no point, if she wanted to find Lex, she had to be honest. “He’s Scottish, even has the burr and everything.”

               “Don’t worry, I don’t care.” Toby took a pencil and scribbled down Lex’s name on the back of a napkin. He wrote Scottish in capital letters, heavily underlining the word when his eyes flickered back to an unreadable Lena. “We’ve got the Mountbatten’s in the royal family and it’s not like most people agree with that Jerry bastard over the water.”

               The brunette woman fiddled with her clothing, starting to wish she had chosen to wear something more comfortable, “I know.”

               “My friend works for the War Office so we should be able to at least know his approximate whereabouts. If I find something, I’ll have a letter posted to you.”

               Lena reluctantly gave him her mother’s address in Scotland. “I suppose I’ll _have_ to see her at some point, so if you find anything just address it to me at Gealaich Castle.” She had taken the pencil from Toby and wrote the name down herself after receiving a confused look, carefully printing each of the letters.

               Lewis’ brow scrunched slightly, “Castle?”

               “They like to name small homes after something to make them seem grander,” Lena effortlessly lied. “It means moonlit… nothing interesting.”

               “Moonlit Castle, huh. I quite like it.” The Navy officer took a small sip of his drink, “No wonder Herefordshire is as far north as you want to go.” Toby lightly shook his head and extended his arm, holding his glass in the space between the three of them. “Cheers!” He exclaimed.

               “What are we celebrating tonight?” Lena asked.

               “The end of the world, clearly.” Lewis deadpanned.

               “I’ll drink to that.” Lena chuckled, bringing their glasses together in audible clink, sending droplets of the amber scotch over the coffee table.

               The rest of the night passed in a hazy blur, between one too many drinks and laughs with complete strangers. It wasn’t that Lena was opposed to spending a night drinking with people she didn’t know, in someone else’s hotel room, she didn’t mind _exactly_ , it was just something that she hadn’t done for years. Being drunk with others also made a difference to the nights spent wishing away the darkness when the woman was at home and Lena had even surprised herself when she found herself having fun, wedged between these people whose names she had immediately forgotten. Or maybe it was that Lena felt as if she belonged with a bunch of strangers, a temporary feeling that clouded any other judgement that her senses had tried to override. In a way it was akin to a goodbye party, even when an influx of people filled the large suite, something in her mind told her she wouldn’t be able to experience this type of carelessness for a long time, telling her to remember the kindness she was shown and solidarity she felt. At some point, she wondered if music had been playing or if it was just her imagination hearing the sweet, rhythmic jazz that she had heard play earlier in the evening.

 

\---

 

               Sunlight poured through a gap in the thick curtains, glazing the pale wooden posts of the bed in a honey hue. Lena woke to the overwhelming brightness on a soft mattress, between two sources of heat. She eased her eyes open, attempting to blink away the bleariness, and through a frown saw Betsey’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist, rising and falling with each breath she took. Her beautifully curled chestnut hair had become a mess of tangles, with crimson lipstick that Lena was sure she wasn’t wearing the night before, smeared across her lips. Lena sat up, feeling the immediate ache of both her body and the deep throbbing in her head. She received a disgruntled sound from the woman next to her as she adjusted her posture and the thin white slip she was wearing. Her emerald eyes scanned the room for a sense of time, and Lena expected to see multiple bodies littering the small living room. Instead, with her suitcase against the wall, the dark-haired woman quickly realised she was in her own room, how she ended up there exactly, she didn’t know.

               A warm breath caught the other side of Lena’s body, and when she glanced to her left, she saw the receptionist, Emma, tucked beside her, with her dark blonde hair falling from the tight low bun that Lena had first seen her with yesterday. _Not both of Betsey’s arms_ , _terrific_. Red lipstick marks of varying intensities resembled a kaleidoscopic map across Emma’s neck. Lena rested her head in her hands trying to stave off the pounding dizziness that filled her head, _Emma wasn’t kidding when she mentioned meeting the needs of the guests_. She gingerly removed both of the arms and stood, using the back wall to maintain her balance, she stepped over Betsey and hit the floor with a small thud. Satisfied she hadn’t woken either of the women up, Lena reached over and placed Betsey’s arm over Emma who had swiftly moved into the warmth of the space that Lena had left behind.

               Lena took a quick bath in an attempt to rid herself of the stench of alcohol that clung to her skin and followed her usual morning routine, although much slower and quieter than normal. Once she was ready, she took a piece of paper and a pencil from the coffee table, writing a quick than you note addressed to both Toby and Lewis. She clenched her jaw, reaching for another scrap of paper, directing her next note to Betsey, ‘ _I might take you up on that offer if I’m ever in London, and tell Miss Garland I said hello_.’ She signed it with her usual cursive handwriting, her name looping on the ‘ _L_ ’, and left both notes on the dark wooden nightstand, and swiftly left the hotel room.

               Instead of enjoying the aroma of croissants, freshly baked bread and all of the other confectionaries she could possibly imagine for breakfast, she had ordered a plate of eggs to go with her glass of champagne. Lena felt prepared to leave, a gnawing in the pit of her stomach that willed the morning to pass quicker than she knew it would. She wasn’t overly worried for what the next few weeks or months would entail, for she had her one fear, and if it wasn’t death by flying or being immersed in another metal contraption that most definitely should not be able to be airborne, it wasn’t worth her time worrying about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder what Lena got up to...  
> I hope that was okay lmao  
> Come say hi on twitter or tumblr if you like, I'm @outislanders on both!!


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